Chapter 471: Unleash The Beast
For the rest of the day, wherever Aegon went, Valterri followed him like a shadow, constantly scanning for threats, as he acted with a level of caution that was somewhere between paranoia and purpose.
He never questioned Veyr’s schedule, never commented on the mundane nature of the meetings he took, nor complained about the repetitive rituals that came with the early days of guarding a newly crowned Dragon.
He simply observed… quiet, composed, and alert in a way that made even the seasoned manor guards feel uneasy.
He watched every servant who approached with food or documents.
He eyed every Cult administrative official who entered the discussion halls.
And he memorized the routes through every hallway, corner, and courtyard that Aegon passed through—marking down sightlines, choke points, and possible ambush locations, even in places that were already protected by layers of Cult security.
When a group of the biggest merchant leaders within the Cult arrived with gifts and smiles stretched too wide, Valterri stood close behind Veyr, not blinking once as he scrutinized their gait, their eyes, their mana flow, their hand movements… as though he were preparing to fight every last one of them should even one move oddly.
As regardless of friend or foe, Valterri treated them all with the same suspicion.
Eventually, as Aegon retired to the northern wing for his first private meeting with the First Elder, Valterri arrived five minutes early, personally inspecting the room—checking under the long council table, behind every curtain, inside every mana duct vent, and even having a brief, hushed exchange with the stationed guards just to verify their identity and clearance.
Not once did he let his attention slip.
Even when Aegon made an unscheduled detour to his own bedroom mid-afternoon to change into a less ceremonial attire, Valterri still entered first, scanned the room like it was enemy territory, and only then stepped back to allow the Dragon to enter.
As although Aegon raised an eyebrow at that gesture, Valterri clarified nothing, as he simply stood at the doorframe, arms folded, eyes still tracking every shadow across the floor.
He did not breathe unless necessary.
He did not relax, not even for a second.
Because that was his oath.
To ensure the Dragons safety no matter the cost.
And if that meant being the first to walk into every room, the last to leave every corridor, and the only one on full alert even during mealtime, then so be it.
Aegon, for his part, didn’t say anything about it.
He wanted to.
He felt awkward at being constantly watched, constantly protected, constantly guarded in a way that made him feel less like a man and more like a sacred scroll kept under lock and seal.
But every time he glanced back at Valterri… he couldn’t bring himself to ask the man to ease up.
There was something in Valterri’s presence, an unspoken loyalty, an unwavering sincerity, that made Veyr feel as though asking him to relax would be a betrayal in itself.
And so, he let him be.
Let the Shield do his work.
Because deep down, even if he never admitted it aloud…
Having such a dedicated servant around did make him feel a lot safer.
——————
(Meanwhile, Back On Planet Granoda)
Once Mauriss returned from his meeting with Kaelith and Helmuth, he couldn’t help but chuckle upon seeing Dupravel still tied to the same stone where he had left him earlier that day.
It was amusing, almost absurd, considering that the thread binding Dupravel was no stronger than the kind used to sew a button onto a shirt.
Not a divine shackle. Not a mana-infused rope.
Just a simple string.
A mortal child could have snapped it without effort, let alone someone like Dupravel, whose strength could probably tear apart half the ocean around him.
And yet, he remained still. Obedient. Silent.
Not because he lacked the power to break free, but because he feared what might follow if he did.
The consequences of defiance were etched too deeply in his mind, as he sat tethered to a powerless thread, waiting faithfully for Mauriss to return, like a mutt trained to know better than to tug against his leash.
“Good boy, Dupravel… I’m pleased with your behaviour,” Mauriss said, his voice smooth, his smile unnervingly genuine, as he stepped past the stone and crouched beside the kneeling figure.
Dupravel said nothing. He simply bowed his head lower, hiding the silent storm in his eyes.
He had no pride left to protest with. Not here. Not before the great deceiver.
*Pat*
*Pat*
Mauriss gently patted his shoulder like one might do to a dog that finally stopped biting.
“I have a special mission for you,” Mauriss said, standing tall once more as he snapped his fingers once to turn the raindrops into soft mist.
“Complete it for me… and you may walk as a free man again.” He offered, as Dupravel lifted his head just a little, eyes flickering with sudden hope.
“Free?” Dupravel asked, as “Yes,” Mauriss replied, clasping his hands behind his back.
“You will no longer be wanted by the Universal Government.
There will be no more bounty on your head, no more chains.
Just you, the stars, and whichever corner of the galaxy you wish to crawl into.”
Dupravel’s lips parted, the words stumbling out before caution could restrain them. “What’s the mission?”
Mauriss smiled wider, then reached into his storage ring and pulled out a small metallic vial the size of a finger.
“I’m going to restrict your strength using my magic,” he said, almost casually. “Seal your power to the Transcendent Tier. That way, you’ll slip into Cult territory unnoticed…. For I don’t think Soron should bother tracking Transcendents.”
“This here in my hands is the reversion potion. Once consumed, it will lift the restriction and restore you to your Monarch-level strength instantly. So you better drink it wisely. Because a few seconds after you restore your strength to normal, you may be detected by Soron, who may or may not intervene.”
Dupravel swallowed, already feeling the noose tightening. “And what’s the objective?”
Mauriss turned his gaze toward the horizon, his smile slowly fading, as it became replaced by something far colder.
“Kill the new Dragon. Aegon Veyr. Strike at the heart of the Cult. Leave their followers lost, leaderless, and trembling.”
The words took a second to settle.
Dupravel’s jaw clenched.
“Kill the new Dragon? That too within Cult land? That’s suicide!” he blurted, unable to hide the spike of panic in his voice. “They’ll bury me alive before I even get close to the new Dragon.”
Mauriss only clicked his tongue in mild disappointment, like a teacher hearing a slow student speak out of turn.
“You’ve done it once with Noah… or have you already forgotten your own legacy, Dupravel?” he said softly, turning to meet his eyes.
“Now it’s time to do it again.”
“Think of all the things you can achieve once you’re a free man again…. Think of how you can try to save your son!
Or perhaps, if you’ve learnt your lesson by now, create a hundred new sons.
You can even start a new guild of your own, and with the prestige of being a double dragon slayer, you will surely become a hot prospect for many to follow once again.
The opportunities are endless.
All you need to do is kill Aegon Veyr and return alive!” Mauriss encouraged, slicing the fragile thread with a flick of his finger, as if severing the leash of a beast he expected to unleash once more.